


All That I Built

by Nestra



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: 12 Days of Malex 2020, Alex is pretty great too, Christmas, M/M, Malex Secret Santa 2020, Michael Guerin's secret pibble heart, Michael Guerin: Hufflepuff extraordinaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27958688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestra/pseuds/Nestra
Summary: "Don't be a grinch, Michael.  Are you telling me Alex doesn't decorate for Christmas?"
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 28
Kudos: 122
Collections: 12 Days Of Malex 2020





	All That I Built

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mander3_swish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mander3_swish/gifts).



> For Amanda. I hope you enjoy it! Everyone stay safe and be happy in this most difficult of years.
> 
> Title from "This is Not the House That Pain Built" by Dar Williams.
> 
> Thanks to grit kitty for beta and title help.

"You don't think you're going overboard with this?" Michael gestured to the crew of workers hanging lights on the house, wrapping them around the trunks of the sparse pine trees, draping nets over bushes, and setting up elegant illuminated reindeer. He was afraid if he stood still, someone would wrap a garland on him.

Isobel didn't move from her supervisory position on the living room couch. "What is Noah's ill-gotten money for, if not for ridiculous excess? And a sizable donation to the food bank."

Michael still thought it was ridiculous, but he also hadn't grown up like Isobel had, her Christmas mornings filled with anticipation and brightly wrapped presents. A couple of his fosters had managed seasonal gifts, but they were usually something practical like clothes, occasionally a book. The less said about the evangelicals and their performative Christianity, the better.

He had to shuffle to the side as two men came into the room, a fir with bound branches held between them. "You've got a real tree too?"

"Don't be a grinch, Michael. Are you telling me Alex doesn't decorate for Christmas?"

"Oh yeah, Alex has great memories of Christmas. When he was twelve, his dad gave him a gun and told him he'd have to earn the ammo."

Isobel assessed him with suspicious eyes. "No, he didn't."

"But you had to think about it, didn't you."

"Well, that's all the more reason Alex should make a big deal out of the holidays. And so should you." Michael watched with increasing dread as Isobel's face lit up. "You should do the decorating. I'm sure Alex wouldn't mind. You practically live there."

Michael did _not_ live there, a fact that he and Alex were both well aware of. They had carefully discussed moving in together, spending more time avoiding each other's sore spots than actually making any progress. They had agreed to take it slow, to give each other space rather than rushing recklessly into a decision they might regret.

It was the right approach. Michael was sure. They were being smart. Smart was safe.

"I'm not sure he'd be into it," Michael said.

"I'll help you. Oh, it can be a _surprise_!" Isobel gleefully clapped her hands. "I've got tons of stuff in storage that you can use."

Michael tried to figure out the most effective way of escaping the conversation. Sincerity? Distraction? Deflection? "Are you sure you don't have something else to do?"

"Like what?"

"Yoga?" Michael managed after a few strangled seconds, realizing his tactical error. She could do whatever took her fancy. And right now, that was glitter-bombing Alex's house in red and green.

Isobel didn't bother engaging with the merits of his argument. "Just find a time when he's out of the house."

"Saturday," Michael said, caving to the inevitable. "He's gone all day for some training thing, said he wouldn't be back until at least five."

"Perfect. I'll meet you there at nine." When Michael just shook his head at her, she relented. "Fine, ten. I'll even bring coffee."

*

When he arrived at Alex's house Saturday morning, Isobel was waiting for him. She beeped the horn imperiously and opened the hatch of her car.

"Everything's in the back! You get your latte when you've unloaded."

Michael scanned the clear plastic storage containers and variously colored bags, several of which were very specifically wreath-shaped. Did you really need a special bag for your wreath? Michael filed it away mentally under 'shit rich people do.'

"There isn't even room to put all of this up," he complained.

"I bet I can prove you wrong. But don't worry, it will be tasteful." Isobel sauntered up to the door and waited for Michael to let her in.

"Not exactly what I was worried about."

It took three trips to unpack the car, and the floor quickly evolved into a chaos of garlands and lights and figurines. The only thing that kept him moving forward with the plan was Isobel's constant drive and the stream of instructions.

But as the day wore on, Michael found himself developing opinions. The first time Isobel held up two strings of lights and asked him to pick, he didn't care. An hour later, when they were placing ornaments on the artificial tree, he bumped her out of the way to rearrange the side nearest the fireplace.

"What?" he asked suspiciously when he caught her smiling.

"Oh, nothing. Just make sure you don't go overboard."

Michael chose to ignore that while he moved the glittery snowflake higher, above the twinkling white lights.

Decorating took longer than he would have guessed, especially once they moved outside. Isobel floated the idea of replacing the lights already strung in the tree with chili pepper lights. He vetoed it immediately, though the glint in her eye suggested she was just testing him. But they draped garlands on the half-wall surrounding the patio, set candles in red and green jars on the tables, and hung one of those fancy wreaths on the door before doing a last polish inside.

Isobel finally arranged the tree skirt to her liking and stepped back, surveying the room. "I think my work here is done."

They'd left most of the house alone. For one thing, Michael was not at all comfortable bringing Isobel into Alex's bedroom, no matter how blasé she was about his sex life. And he'd wanted to leave some rooms untouched, in case Alex hated the invasion of Christmas cheer.

"You don't look happy and satisfied."

Michael abandoned his attempt to be stoic. "What if he doesn't like it?"

"He already has lights on his house, Michael. I hardly think he'll draw a line at some greenery."

"But--"

She shrugged. "If he does, you take some of it down. Or all of it. It's just Christmas decorations, not a commitment."

The problem was when Isobel left, after Michael packed all of the empty boxes in her car and she drove away, and he had nothing to do but sit and wait and think. Because Isobel was wrong. The decorations were a commitment. They said Michael would be there for the next month. That he expected to sit in a candlelit room with Alex and watch the lights on the tree blink on and off. That sometime in January, after they'd procrastinated for a few weeks, they'd spend a Sunday afternoon taking all of it down and then relax in front of the fireplace until it was time to eat a quiet dinner and fall into bed.

And he still wasn't sure how Alex would react. Even if he didn't hate it, indifference would be almost as bad.

But it was too late to change his mind. There was no way he could take down everything and restore the house before Alex got back. He'd just have to wait and hope.

At five o'clock, he started listening for the sound of a car outside. At five-thirty, he stopped checking his phone and pulled it out of his pocket for good, placing it on the table in front of him, where he was sure to notice a text message. At five forty-six, he caved and texted Alex.

Michael: _Almost home? I'm at your place_

He didn't get a response for twenty minutes.

Alex: _Running late, don't wait for me_

Michael: _I don't mind_

Alex: _No, it's ok, just go home_

So much for his big surprise. It stung, not being there when Alex saw the decorations, but he couldn't blame Alex for not knowing, when the surprise was the point. Alex would be confused when he got home, whenever time that was, but Michael wasn't going to stick around after Alex explicitly told him to leave. 

He tried not to brood over it on the way back to the Airstream. It didn't have to be a big deal. If Alex didn't call when he got home, Michael would check in tomorrow. And if Alex wanted the decorations removed, Michael would do it—though he vowed to make Isobel help, whether she wanted to or not.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, he nearly reached the trailer before he noticed the lights.

Michael parked and slowly got out of his truck, unable to look at anything besides the ethereal vision of his trailer, draped in a soft, warm glow. Until the door opened, and Alex stepped outside.

"Hey," he said, a bashful smile on his face.

Michael shook his head, so full of affection that he didn't know where to put it. "What did you do?"

Alex shrugged. "I just thought the place could use some...atmosphere."

He wanted to keep looking, but he had to touch Alex, so he stretched out his hand. Together they turned to take in the rest of the decorations. Lights hung from the boom of the ancient tow truck, dangled from the side mirrors of the bus, and covered the ridiculous hubcap structure so thoroughly that all you saw was red and green.

And Michael's favorite part. The farolitos. Fragile paper bags with their candles inside, surrounding the trailer like they were guarding it. Growing up in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, he'd seen them every year on sidewalks and on top of walls. He could have made them for himself any time he wanted. But even if he'd thought of it, he never would have made the effort.

But Alex had.

Alex had made his home a haven, not just by decorating it, but by being there and waiting for him. The incongruity of it could have looked ridiculous. The trailer had never been the home of a person who shared holidays with family. It belonged to someone who lived on the fringes and had resigned himself to it.

Michael hadn't been that person for a long time, and maybe it was time he admitted it.

He had to ask. "How did you know I wouldn't be here?"

"I called and asked Sanders. He said you told him you'd be gone all day." Alex's chuckle confirmed Michael's suspicion about how that conversation had gone.

"Sanders helped you with this?"

"Oh, no. I wouldn't have asked him to anyway, but he made it clear when I talked to him that he wasn't going to participate in any 'foolishness.'"

Michael dropped Alex's hand so he could slide behind him and wrap his arms around Alex's waist, resting his chin on Alex's shoulder. "There's no way you did this all on your own."

"Liz and Maria helped," Alex admitted. His warm hands covered Michael's. " So did the margaritas."

"You save any for me?"

His hair tickled Michael's nose when he shook his head. "Sorry. You know what the girls are like when they get going."

"Uh-huh. And you didn't help at all."

"Maybe a little."

They rocked in place a little, gently swaying in the quiet night.

"Thank you," Michael finally said. "It's really nice."

"I'm glad you like it." Alex turned in his arms and kissed him, a soft and searching press. Michael wanted nothing more than to sit in one of the chairs and pull Alex onto his lap so they could watch the farolitos dance in the gentle wind. Or even better, go into the trailer, take down the yellowed newspaper covering the window, and let the light wash over them while they held each other.

"What were you doing at my house?" Alex asked. "Just waiting for me?"

"Isobel and I decorated it."

Alex leaned back in his arms. "Seriously? Why didn't you say something? We should go look at it."

"Nah," Michael said. "I'd rather stay here."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Twitter as [@akaNestra](https://twitter.com/akaNestra) and Tumblr as [changingthingslikeleaves](https://changingthingslikeleaves.tumblr.com/).


End file.
